The Substance of Things Hoped For
by MourningBlade
Summary: A new danger threatens Valdemar and the Queen's only hope is...a scullery maid? Angsty. Based on a postMage Winds universe. Not stictly cannon.
1. Chapter 1

Salora dropped her armload of wooden trays onto the vast expanse of the kitchen counter with a careless contempt, earning herself yet another dark glance from the head cook--her third of the day.

"Was that really necessary?" The cook glowered at her from her perch near the stoves, where she was ostensibly "over-seeing" the staff.

Salora quickly schooled her features into a mask of pleasantness.

"No, Cook." She chirped with saccharine tones. "Terribly sorry, Cook!"

The cook gave her a measuring look, her eyebrow raised. "See that it doesn't happen again."

Salora restrained her tongue from spilling a haughty retort, hung her apron on a hook, and escaped the stifling kitchens with as much haste as could feasibly be considered "seemly." If fortune smiled on her, she would avoid being sucked into her mother's duties for the rest of the afternoon. If not, she would miss the only aspect of her life that made it bearable--watching the Heraldic trainees at weaponswork.

From the time she was old enough to avoid her mother's watchful eye, she had escaped to the Salle to watch--and later imitate--the blade training administed by the fearsome foreign Herald who taught only the most advanced students. He was an odd Herald, the Weaponsmaster. He never, in Salora's recollection, ever wore Whites. It was only through snippets of overheard conversation among the Trainees that Salora was even aware that Albereicht was a Herald. Later observation at the Companion's field, where Salora saw him astride a Companion, proved the Trainees words correct--for a Companion bore their Chosen and no other...Salora shook herself from her reverie.

Now was not the time to daydream. If she did not exercise all her guile in avoiding her mother, Ella would catch her and the where would she be? Her whole afternoon would be wasted on learning 'how to run a House.' Ella meant well, she was sure of it, but she wished ferverently that her mother would see that Salora was meant for more than washing and mending.

She sighed, wishing for the thousandth time that she had been Chosen. As a child she had lurked around Companion's field, hoping desperately that one of the transcendent creatures would come and whisk her away. But it never happened. Now, at fifteen, chances were slim to none that it ever would. She wiped away the salty tear that had worked its way unbidden down her cheek.

Even if she hadn't been Chosen, there were other means of excape from palace drudgery, The Guard for one. The one and only time Salora had dared mention her dream to Ella, her mother had laughed derisively.

"You? In the Guard?" Upon seeing the crestfallen look on her daughter's face, Ella had softened, wrapping her arms around Salora's waist and pulling her into a warm embrace.

"The Guard isn't for the likes of you and me, Salora. They'd eat you alive. The poor and the unlanded...meaning no disrespect to the Queen, are just bodies to waste." Ella leveled a serious look at her daughter. "Besides, you have too much to reccomend you to go throwing yourself away on the Guard." What she had to reccommend her, Ella never would say, stating cryptically that she would understand when she was older.

Salora opened the doors to the cubby of a room she shared with Ella, and quickly darted inside. She steathily drew a plain blue tunic, brown belt, blue breeches, and brown boots from the cabinet that served as her wardrobe and slipped them on. She fastened the buckle on her belt and then moved to lace her boots.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

Salora stopped abruptly in midlace.

"Out." She shrugged carelessly, careful to reveal none of her urgency. Ella's eyes narrowed.

"Out where?" Ella demanded, her hands on her hips.

Salora thought fast. If her mother had any inkling of what she was _really _about to do..,

"To get some fresh air. I feel that I can't breathe after all morning in the kitchens." Well, it was marginally true,,,

Ella relaxed visibly, the hardness leaving her grey eyes.

"I know what you mean." Ella smiled. "Just be back for dinner chores."

Salora flashed Ella a brilliant smile in return and hastily laced her remaining boot.

"Yes, Ella!"

Salora fled the room before her mother could change her mind. Now she was free! Sure it was only temporary, but Salora would take what she could get.

She arrived at the Salle long before the Trainees were due to arrive and hid herself in the half shadows off to one side. She streched carefully and dilligently, extending her flexibility to her uttmost. After the Trainees completed their workout, Salora would sneak into the Salle and imitate the drills she learned that day. To her own critical eye, she wasn't half-bad, but she longed with all of her heart for a more formal evaluation of her skills.

About the time Salora determined her muscles to be sufficiently limber, the Trainees began to trickle in, bantering good-naturedly among themselves. This class, Salora's favorite, was made up entirely of Heraldic trainees. She watched their easy commaraderie with no little envy as they chattered during their warm-up stretches. She envied not only their fortune at being privy to the best weapons training available, but also their closeness. Salora had very little contact with others her own age--Ella saw to that. Her mother, for some reason Salora could not fathom, seemed to want to keep her entirely isolated. Ella constantly hissed at her to avoid drawing eyes.

The Weaponsmaster finally arrived and began putting the students through their paces. He demonstrated an arial tuck and roll manuver that had Salora positively transfigured. Unable to resist, she ventured tentatively out of her half-shadow for the first time ever and attempted the manuver. Her movement, quick and silent though it was, must have caught Albereicht's eye, for he turned and pounced on her like a cat on an unwary mouse.

"You there! Girl!"

Salora willed herself to disapear. When her wish went unoblidged, she replied tentatively. "Me?"

"Yes. You. Do again what just you did. Only here." He gestured at an area in the center of the well-lit Salle with the tip of his blade. "Where others might see."

Salora trembled, but moved forward obediently towards the area he pointed at, clutching at her practive sword. Adreneline pumping through her veins, she twisted her body into what she hoped was a passable semblence of the drill. She landed in a crouch and vraced herself for the bray of disapproval she had so often heard him favor his students with. It never came.

"Good. Well done." He turned to the watching Trainees. "You see how fluidly she moves. It is this that I wish for you to imitate." She turned back to her.

"You have a name, girl?"

"Salora."

He smiled at her. "You will be taking classes with me, from now on." He scratched his head as though thinking. "Your mother, she is Ella, the Housekeeper's assistant, is she not?"

Slowly, Salora nodded, scarely able to believe her ears.

"Yes, I thought as much." He eyed her shrewdly. "You think perhaps it is persuasion she will need?" It wasn't really a question. He turned back to the Trainees. "Jethry." he barked at an auburn-haired boy.

"Yes, Sir."

"You are to go to the Housekeeper's Assistant, Ella. You will tell her that Master Albereicht has decieded that it is weapons training her daughter needs." The boy darted a glance at Salora then nodded before running of to comply with the order. The Weaponsmaster turned back to Salora, a grim smile playing across his battle-worn features. It was truely terrifying.

"And now child, you are mine."


	2. Chapter 2

When Salora finally reached her chambers she was sodden with sweat. Her muscles protested as she moved to strip off her damp garments. Even though she was in more pain than she had ever experienced before in her short life, she had never been more happy. Her bladework had proven better than passable. Good even. When Master Albereicht had asked her what she wanted, she hadn't hesitated for even a moment before pouring out her heart.

"I had hoped to be Chosen, Sir. But it didn't happen. So I'm for the Guard, given a choice." Then she had waited, holding her breath, for her fragile hopes to be dashed once again. Albereicht _had _laughed, but not derisively as Ella had.

"I think...better than the Guard we can do for you."

She wasn't sure what he meant, but anything had to be better than following in Ella's footsteps. For the first time in ages Salora, felt cheerful as she dressed to stand her evening kitchen duty. The frumpy frock which served as uniform for the kitchen staff was so large it looked a touch ridiculous, she thought fleetingly as she adjusted it as best she could. She shrugged. It hardly mattered that Ella insisted that her clothes not fit...it was only temporary! She basked in this joyous revelation as she bounded down the stairs to the kitchens as spryly as her muscles would allow.

Ella had greeted the Heraldic messanger with slack-jawed terror. At first she had feared the impossible--that Salora had been Chosen. It came almost as a relief when the Trainee explained that the Armsmaster merely wanted to provide her comely daughter lessons in self-defense. At least that was how Ella chose to see it. Afterall, she reflected, it was no bad thing for the girl to have a few tricks up her sleeves when it came to an attack--an attack that Ella feared was inevitable. Salora grew more and more lovely with each passing year, a fact that Ella struggled to keep her daughter ignorant of.

Salora had been a pretty infant and a lovely little, but when Salora hit puberty, she became breath-taking. Perfectly straight hair as dark as a raven's wing fell easily past her waist when unfettered, accompanied with rose petal lips and skin like winter cream. Like her father, Ella thought irrelevantly. The girl looked exactly like her father. It was nothing short of miraculous that no one had yet noticed and commented on the fact. The girl even had a certain air, a certain regal bearing that spoke of the noble blood from which she sprung. It was a secret that Ella would die to protect--for Salora's father had been a traitor. She shook her head, wishing not for the first time that she had left more of a mark on her daughter than the sillver-gray eyes they both shared. If anyone ever guessed at the truth, her daughter's life would be in danger...

Ella remembered Salora's darkly handsome father with an utter lack of sentimentality. They had a business arrangement, nothing more. At least, that was what she whispered to her heart in those dark days following his execution. Ella had been comely back then. No competion for her daughter, certainly, but her breasts were pleasantly plump, her figure trim, and her countenance pleasantly attactive. When the handsome Lord deigned to take notice of her, she had tumbled willingly into his bed. He offered her the one thing that she had been powerless to refuse--a way out of her drudgery. True to his word, he had pulled the strings which resulted in her appointment as the Housekeeper's Assistant, a thing that would never have happened without him. Ella, a dirt-grubbing nobody from a backwater village in central Valdemar would run the entire Palace Household one day. It was nearly as good as being Lady of a Keep. Certainly better than Ella could have dared hope for in her wildest dreams.

Ella did not discover that she was pregnant with Salora until several months after the Lord's death--well into her pregnancy. Her fears that her position might be in jeopardy as a result of her illigitimate pregnancy proved groundless. No one was even curious who had sired the babe. But the fact remained that Salora was a traitor's bastard. It was well and good for a Lady to have a face like an angel and a body like a goddess, but the same traits in a servant's daughter spelled trouble. It virtually guarenteed that the girl would have difficulties finding gainful employeement of a respectable sort outside the palace walls. What woman would hire a Lady's maid guarenteed to catch the eye of her spouse or son and result in a potentially troublesome little bundle for the family to sweep under the floorboards?

So Ella pushed, pushed, _pushed_ for Salora to learn the ins and outs of Household management, with the hopes that one day, when Ella herself ascended to the position of Housekeeper, her daughter might take her place as Assistant. But the girl was proving stubornly resistant to all of Ella's carefully laid plans, thwarting her at every turn. She put on airs which alienated the maid staff, she was careless and uninterested in the kitchens, which earned her the scorn of the Head Cook, and she used every excuse in the book to avoid Ella's tuteledge. It was enough to drive her mad! She sighed. It seemed that there was no good place for Salora. Ella only hoped that she could keep her innocent daughter from lecherous eyes for a little while longer.


	3. Chapter 3

Salora awoke with the dawn bell, stretched then winced as every muscle screamed in protest. She groaned and rose, resisting the urge to burrow back into her warm cocoon of blankets. She hummed softly as she dressed and tied back her hair into a careful chignon at the nape of her neck and adjusted her coif as straightly as possible without the aid of a mirror. Supressing a yawn, she hurried through the labinryth of stairs and hallways leading to the palace kitchens. Halfway there, she remembered with a start that she had left her nightshift in a heap on the floor. The bedclothes were most likely a rumpled mess as well. She would catch it for sure! She hesitated for a brief moment then continued on to the kitchens. There was no help for it now. It was a twenty minute walk to return to her rooms. If she was late for morning duty again, cook would keep her scrubbing pots well into the afternoon. She couldn't risk missing her lessons. Ella's wrath was a risk Salora was prepared to take. At this point it was the more calculated risk. She knew what cook had in store for her if she was late; Ella was the wild card.

By the time she bustled into the kitchens (barely in time for the duty bell) she was humming cheerfully again. She removed her apron from its hook with flourish, tieing it smartly about her waist. Several of the other maids were groggily favoring her with quizzical expressions, which Salora properly ignored. Let them think what they would. Nothing could bring her soaring spirits down as long as her dreams were so close at hand. She helped herself to a steaming cup of the thick dark coffee that the cook brewed every morning and nibbled hastily on a warm walnut scone. Several of the other staff were also breaking their morning fast. As more and more finished the kitchen began to hum with activity. Salora dropped her empty cup into the basin of warm soapy water used to scrub the large cast iron pots and earned herself a glare and a curse from Melly the pot girl.

"Pots go in the basins! _Dishes go in the sinks!_" Melly hissed at her.

Salora shrugged at her and kept moving, heaving up one of the massive wooden serving trays and loading it onto the pully shaft in the center of the room. She wound the loading crank and walked away as the tray ascended to the third level kitchens with shudder and a clang. She grabbed another tray and repeated the process as cheerfully as possible given the repetitive monotany of the task. Cook even began favor her with the warm looks she usually saved for Calista the indefagitably sweet pastry cook, the reward for her efforts at levity. Sooo not worth it. Which was why she usually didn't bother.

By the time she finally heaved the last heavily laden tray onto the lift, the second shift bell was ringing. She wiped at her sweat misted brow with a bit of (reasonably) clean cloth and thanked Astera that the nobles were fundamentally slothful. Only the Council members, along with a few lesser nobles, took a true breakfast at court, only by virtue of the early schedules of the former and the notable lack of late night entertainments enjoyed by the latter. The rest of the highborn trickled in much latter, certainly not before the mid-morning bell, to eat a nunchen of pastries, fruits, cold meats, and delicate cheeses. Nooning was skipped entirely, as most took in high tea amongst their private circles. The scheduled suited Salora and the rest of the kitchen staff just fine. Two meals a day were plenty.

She shrugged out of her apron, a grinned warmly at cook before practically skipping out of the room. After quick scrub in the washroom, Salora rushed to her chambers to find that Ella had yet to return from her own morning duties. Smiling with relief she practically sang as she hung her carelessly discarded nightshift in its proper hook and smoothed the rumpled blankets with practiced sweep of her hands. Feeling lighter than she thought possible, Salora shrugged out of her uniform, hanging it neatly in the cabinet. Her coiff followed. She unwound her ebon locks, and brushed them out with smooth even strokes before twining them into an elaborate configuration of braids that would remain secure no matter how much she moved and sweated.

Had she known it, the effect was nearly as stunning as if she had left it to fall unfettered. As it was, Salora was blissfully unaware of her own good looks. A peep in a looking glass was a rare treat for most servants and Salora was no exception. She had viewed her own image a mere handful of times and Ella was careful to keep her daugher well-hidden in the kitchens, effectively avoiding the lecherous eyes of those who would notice and tell her.

With a final pat at her hair, Salora fled her chambers and the palace, rushing to beat noon bell. Albereicht was sure to make an example of her if she were tardy for her first lesson! She barreled headlong down the track to the Salle, weaving in and out amongst students limping up the path from earlier weapons sessions. She was in such a hurry, she wasn't strictly watching where she was going as she bounded around the sharp curve the path took to avoid a building.

The impact came as a complete shock sending her sprawling backward onto the path and knocking the two boys she collided with forward into the dust. When she had recovered enough to realize what had happened, she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. The auburn-haired boy rose first, brushing off the grime from his garments as he walked towards her. He smiled at her warmly and offered his hand. She accepted reluctantly, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

They were soon joined by the second boy, a blonde, with well-chisled features. Now flushing furiously, Salora realized that both boys wore the dark grey attire of Heraldic trainees. She dropped her head and curtseyed deeply.

"Terribly sorry, mi'lords." She murmered, keeping her voice soft and her eyes properly downcast.

"Nonsense!" The boys voice was warm and friendly. She dared a glance upward, meeting his warm brown eyes tentatively. He winked at her playfully.

"It was entirely my fault. Kris and I shouldn't have been blocking the path." He smiled at her broadly, revealing white, even teeth. "And I am NOT 'mi'lord,' I'm just a Trainee. And if my parents hadn't been Chosen, they'd likely be farmers."

Salora rose gracefully from her curtsey and studied the two boys with an appraising eye. She recognized the auburned haired boy as the same Trainee Albereicht had sent to her mother yesterday on her behalf. Jethry, she thought his name was. His hair was slightly curly, caught in a perpetual limbo between waves and curls. His face was vaguely heart-shaped and rather fine boned for a man, reminding her of...someone she couldn't quite place. All and all he was charmingly attractive.

Her eyes wandered over to his companion, the chisled blonde. If Jeth was charmingy attractive, his companion was heart-breakingly gorgeous. Thick hair the color of raival leaves fell in purposeful careless to his shoulders. His eyes, a rich saphire blue that reminded Salora of a Companion, sparkled with a mischevious glint. The chisled jaw which had forst caught her attention, she now noticed ended in a cleft. His fair good looks made no little impression on Salora. She tilted her head, smiling up at him flirtatiously, scarely aware that she did so.

"I'm Salora." She said, offering him her hand. He took it with a smile and kissed it, bowing over it, like an over-acting player in an exceptionally bad melodrama.

"The pleasure, love, is _all_ mine. You may, fairest of damsels, refer to me as Kris." Her pulse thundered in her ears at as she felt his eyes weep admiringly over her body. She tingled from head to toe as though her nerves had migrated to the surface of her skin. So taken was she by Kris that she completely neglected to intoduce herself to his friend.

The boy sighed good-naturedly after several failed attempts to recapture her attention.

"Some guys have all the luck." he muttered under his breath. He turned to Kris. "If you would be so kind as to tell the lady that the lout who was so rude as to block the path is named Jeth, and is also pleased to make her aquaintance, I'd be much beholden, brother."

Once again Salora flushed with embaressment at her inconsidereate behavior and removed her hand from Kris' warm one.

"I'm terribly sorry, Jeth." She murmered in chagrin. "Please excuse my deplorable lack of manners. Attibute it to the fall addling my wits." She offered him her hand. "I am also pleased to make your aquaintance."

Jeth excepted her hand with a teasing grin then froze, staring at her in open-mouthed shock instead of kissing it as Kris had. He held her hand for so long that she began to dispair of ever getting it back. Finally Kris nudged him playfully with his shoulder.

"I'm sure the lady wants her hand back sometime today."

Jeth flushed and dropped her hand, murmering some sort of disclaimer. Kris favored him with an odd sidelong glance then shrugged.

"Seeing as how we seem to be heading the same direction, will you allow us to escort you?"

Salora flushed yet again, this time with pleasure, and excepted his proffered arm. As the path was pnly wide enough for two to walk abreast, Jeth trailed behind.

At armspractice, Albereicht divided the class up into pairs, with Salora and Kris set to spar. They started rather slowly. When he advanced, striking with deciedely Rethwellan offensive manuevers, she countered with a Karsite block. When she advanced, employing the Capo Ferro, he neuralized it with a Thibault defense. When he tried the Sainct offense, Salora caught a blatent weakness in his left flank. He was executing the improperly, and the tilt of his sword left an opening that he would be powerless to defend should an enemy see it. She hesitated, not wanting to embaress him. She twirled her blade with a practiced ease and struck the killing blow. As she suspected, he was unaware of his weakness and thus, unable to counter. In the same fluid motion she disarmed him as easily as Albereicht would have.

She paused, breathing heavily. He stared at her, dumbstruck. She moved forward briskly, all business. "You have to watch the left. When you execute the you tilt your blade slightly, leaving your flank open to attack. Try this." She retrieved his blade and handed it to him, adjusting his grip and spacing, so that the telling tilt of the blade disapeared. Without warning she attacked, he countered smoothly, blocking the blow that had "killed" him moments before.

"Good! Very good, Salora." Albereicht barked, startling them both. "Many would hesitate to correct the Heir. Glad is it that I am!"

"The...Heir..."


	4. Chapter 4

Salora's knees felt weak and threatened to give way beneath her. The Crown Prince. Heir to the throne of Valdemar. And she, a mere scullery maid, had knocked him to the dirt, hit him with her blade, and publically humiliated him all in the space of a few hours. Gods. She was over. If he didn't have her thrown out of the palace this very evening it was more than she could expect.

She remained standing only through intense effort, though she trembled visibly.

"Your Majesty..." She managed to say, though her words sounded weak and distant, as thought the were choked from a throat other than her own. "I am...so sorry." She started to fall into a curtsey, but he prevented her, grabbing her shoulders and looking deep into her eyes earnestly.

"No. Around here I'm Kris. Just Kris. Not the Heir or a prince. I'm just another Trainee."

His vehement tone startled her. She almost believed him to be angered at her deference to his superior status. She looked away from the intense disapointment in his eyes.

"Sorry." He said, sounding mildly embaressed. "I shouldn't have been short with you. It's just...no special treatment ok?" She smiled at him tremulously.

"Does that mean I'm free to humilate you with my superior blade work whenever I so choose?" She dared a tentative joke, trying to determine if he was serious or not.

He broke into a bold grin.

"You could if I let you. Next time you might not be so lucky. Perhaps my mistake was nothing more than an elaborate plan to throw you off your guard."

She laughed. "Of course. Then you won't mind if I do _this._" She twirled deliberately, lauching a modified Sainct manuever at him. He was forced to throw himself into a sideways duck and roll to avoid her blade.

"Hey! That was hardly in keeping with rules of honorable engagement!"

She brandished her blade and raised an eyebrow. "Surely, Prince Kris, you don't expect an asassin to be so considerate as to delay his attack until you are suitably prepared, do you?"

He groaned, wiping the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his tunic, a decidedly unroyal gesture. He looked over at Jeth, who was walking their way. "She sounds like Kero!" he complained, rising to his feet and brushing his dirt covered tunic. "Why is it that I've known you for a mere two hours and I've spent most of that time wallowing in the dirt?" He mock-complained.

Jeth grinned. "Perhaps you're just reverting to your natural state. What was it that girl from Evendim called you last week? A suckling hog?" Kris pretended to strike at him. "I should have you killed for your insolence, except your mother would probably favor me with one of her emotional backlashes."

Jeth grinned even broader. "And _your_ mother would most likely agree with my assessment."

Kris grinned back. "Sad but true. I hate it when you're right."

Jeth patted him on the back. "By this time you must have become quite used to the sensation."

As they bantered, a thought hit her. If Kris was _the Kris_, Heir to the throne of Valdemar, then Jeth must be...she turned to Jeth, and saw that he was watching her with an odd glint in his warm brown eyes.

"Emotional backlashes? That means you're...you're Herald Talia's son. The Queen's Own's son!"

He turned his teasing grin on her and Salora noticed that he had cute little dimples on either side of his mouth.

"Alas!" He declared, clutching his chest as though he had been shot. "I was hoping that you wouldn't find out. Having parents of Legend is almost as bad as being Heir." He eyed her mournfully. "Almost, but not quite. All of the lovely ladies fall for him first."

Kris punched him playfully. "That, dear boy, has nothing to with my rank, and everything to do with my stunning good looks!" Kris mocked preened, looking remarkably like one of the dandies at court.

Jeth turned back to Salora. "I suppose you're going to follow suit, hmm? Now that you've seen the crown jewel of Valedmar over here, a regular chap won't stand a chance?" He mock bowed at her and she blushed at the implication.

Kris took her arm and winked at her. "Of course, brother, what lady could resist my considerable charms? And now, I shall rescue said lady from enduring any more of your base sallies!"

He whisked her up the path leaving a somewhat dumbstruck Jeth behind. After they had put some distance between themselves and the Salle, Kris stopped and turned to her, favoring her with a charming grin.

"Do you have evening duty tonight, or can you spare a moment for a walk in the Gardens?"

Salora dimpled a smile at him that nearly froze his heart with her beauty (and did..._other things_ to certain other parts of his anatomy). She was, he reflected, like a livining embodiment of an old child's tale his elder sister Elspeth used to regale he and Lytha with, the Snow Princess. As a Heraldic Trainee, Kris knew that he wasn't supposed to be turned by a pretty face. He couldn't help it. When it came to women he had absolutely _no_ sense of control. They batted their eyelashes at him and he melted into a puddle of need.

Hence Jeth's joke regarding the Evendim girl--what _was_ her name?--who was his most recent conquest. The shit from that particular diversion had hit the ceiling quite spectacularly, ending when the girl in question caught him flirting with a Rethwellan dignitary's daughter. She had cursed him quite loudly and thoroughly--suckling hog was almost complementary compared to the other things she called him--drawing a large crowd, before finally dumping an entire punch bowel over his head. Kris was at a loss as to which was worse, the lecture he received from his mother, father, and Companion, or the congragulatory cheers and pats on the back he earned from his peers. He _knew_ his behavior was entirely too self-indulgent, but Adain was still around...so he couldn't be that bad...he turned his thoughts back to Salora. Her angelic good looks, accompanied by her winsome manner stirred something inside of him he was afraid to analyze too closely.

_:Lust_

The voice in his head was playfully teasing, but not without overtones of reproach.

_: I've felt that before, Lord of all Wisdom_

_:Too true, Chosen. That is the problem isn't it? _

There was a pause.

_:This really has to stop, Chosen. You are putting more than just your reputation on the line. You must stop before someone gets hurt._

_:I really think that this one is different, Adain. I've never felt anything quite like this before._

Another pause.

_:I think, Chosen, that what you feel is...lust accompanied by a genuine desire for friendship. She is a charming girl. I like her._

_:You do? I-that's great! So I have your blessing?_

_:That's never stopped you before._

_:No. But then you've never said you liked one before._

_:Well I do. But then I'd like anyone who regularly knocked you flat._

_:Ha-ha. Very funny, Fairyfoot. No out of my head before she starts to think I'm crazy._

He turned his attention back to her and arched a brow, waiting for her response.

"The answer to both questions is yes. I do have evening duty, but I also have time enough to stroll with you in the gardens."

"Good." He replied, unable to the satisfaction from his voice. He twined his hand with hers. "Because I want to get to know you better." _Much better_, he added in his head, stroking the underside of her palm.


	5. Chapter 5

The waning rays of the sun had just begun to kiss the waiting earth when Salora and Kris entered the palace gardens. Naturally, Salora had wandered these paths before, but never had they seemed more wonderous to her than at present. No section was off-limits to them--they wandered freely. The trees, bursting forth in their glory, formed a filmy canopy white above them, frequently showering the unwary with copious amounts of petals.

Kris paused before a semi-secluded fountain near the heart of the gardens. The fountain had long since ceased to flow, likely never forming even so much as a trickle since the reign of King Randale. Violent green vines of some type of ivy had turned the cracked fountain to a makeshift planter, twisting and twining their way across its surface until scarely a block of the original stone could be seen. Kris sat at the fountain's edge, drawing Salora next to him. Her pulse fluttered through her arteries at his proximity, and she was suddenly _very _aware of the masculine pressure of his hands on hers. He reached upward plucking wayward petals from her hair with his left hand, leaning into her ever-so slightly as he did so. Warm bursts of his breath tickled her neck, sending pleasant chills down her spine. She tilted her head slightly so as to admire the brilliant saphire of his eyes.

"What is it like?" she asked suddenly, to still the quivering nervousness his actions caused her.

"Hmm?" he said, distractedly, continuing to tug the delicate petals from her crown of hair.

"Being a Herald. What is it like?" Suddenly, she had his full attention as he dropped his fathomless blue eyes to her face. She found herself flushing (again!) at the intensity of his gaze.

"It's..probably the best thing that ever happened to me. I wouldn't be who am I if I wasn't a Herald, but being a Herald doesn't make me who I am." He laughed. "I'm not making much sense am I?"

"Well, you wouldn't be Heir if you weren't a Herald..." She said slowly, somewhat perplexed by his twisted response.

"Yes. But it's more than that, you know? It's like I was never really my true self, whole and complete, until I was Chosen. But Adain Chose me _because_ of my true self."

"I see." She said softly. "What about...your Companion?"

"Adain?" Kris grinned. "Not at all what you would expect. They aren't wise, transcendent, gifts from the gods, though they'd like you to believe they were." Here Kris paused, tilting his head as though he were _listening_ to someone. He laughed again. "Adain is telling me he'll kick me into next week if I keep shattering everyone's illusions of them. Apparently he believes that familiarity breeds contempt."

Salora smiled sadly, suddenly melancholy as the familiar longing clutched her soul with icy fingers.

"It must be wonderful."

"What, having a four-footed wet-nurse nagging you into behaving nicely?" He joked, his eyes dancing, unaware of her change in mood.

She dropped her gaze to stare at her hands.

"To have met the other half of your soul. To have someone dedicate themselves to so completely that they'd move heaven and earth just to find you." She looked up at him, tears of longing shining in her eyes. "To be loved unconditionally just because you're you."

He stared at her so intently that her longing for the broken dreams of her heart were suddenly replaced by a different sort of longing entirely. She reached up with a boldness she hadn't thought herself capable of and plucked at petal from _his_ hair. He caught her hand firmly and decisively and pulled her into him so that her arms rested intimately about his shoulders. Taking her head in his hands he grabbed her almost forcefully and tugged her into the searing intensity of a passionate kiss.

Time seemed to stop about her as the rough/gentle pressure of his lips drove all cognitive thoughts from her head. He sucked softly on her bottom lip, coaxing her mouth open to allow greater access. She felt the warm texture of his tongue as he flicked it accross her lips before seeking the waiting cavern of her mouth. Moaning softly into his lips, she opened her mouth wider, allowing him to deepen the kiss. She nearly gasped as he caressed her tongue with his, encouraging her to explore his mouth in kind. She did so with a wonton need that suprised her with its intensity. The burning desire to be _closer_ to him overcame her. Suddenly the millimeters that seperated their clinging bodies seemed _much_ too far. She clung to him tighter, pressing the well-formed curves of her body into the spongy hard muscles of his chest and twining her fingers into the silky softness of his hair. Now it was his turn to moan, as he felt the hardness of her nipples press his chest through the rather thin material of her tunic.

A persistant clanging sound in the distance caused her passion-fogged brain to slowly return to a dim awareness. The bell meant...something...she pulled away from him suddenly.

"Gods!" she cried out in a panic, leaping to her feet. "The bell! The _bell!_" She tried to ignore the empty, bereft feeling of being out of his arms. He rose, his eyes still clouded with desire and grabbed her again, rejoining their lips with renewed fervor. She melted into him, his kiss initiating a wave of desire she was helpless to resist. It swept her away into a sea of passion that she wanted, no _needed,_ to drownd in. With great effort she again wrested herself from his grasp.

"I _must_ go!"

"Don't."

It was one word and it kept her rooted to the spot where she stood, unable to stay but unwilling to go. He leaned into her, peppering her lips and neck with tiny kisses.

"Stay." He commanded, finding the pulse on her neck and sucking softly, grazing it slightly with his teeth.

It took an emormous strength of will to pull away.

"I can't. I must go!"

She twisted from his arms with the agility of a cat, panting faintly from his ministrations on her neck. She fled the gardens, half stumbling on the loose gravel in her haste to get away. He stood there staring after her--the back of her neck prickled where his gaze fixed--calling her name.


	6. Chapter 6

Inspite of arriving in the kitchens disheveled and several minutes late (again!), Salora was aglow during her evening duty. Not even cook's sharp repremand (Slothful cow! I'd have you in Melly's place scrubbing pots if you could be trusted!)could bring her off her passion-induced high. Her first kiss. It had been everything her girlish heart could have ever dreamed it could be. It seemed to her that she could still feel the pressure of his lips against hers. He stirred an intensity of feeling deep within her unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Her heart aflutter, Salora bounded into her chambers, humming as she tugged on her nightshift. From her perch on her bunk, Ella saw and pondered the sudden change in her daughter's demeanor. She feared that Salora's joy was more than mere weapons work could reasonably portend.

Ella's fears were realized ten-fold when the first hollow clangs of the early morning bell began to sound. They awoke to a room filled with flowers. _Tannis_ flowers. More precious than gems, Tannis flowers bloomed only once every ten years. Their delicate black-and-white striped blooms were so fragile that they required constant care and cultivation in the shelter of a hothouse. Even one was worth more than many a 'girl' made in half a year. The room was literally _filled_ with them, flowers covering every available surface. A note accompanied the blossoms, which Salora opened with trembling hands. What the note said, Salora did not share with her, instead clutching the parchment to her bosom with a slight squeal before secreting it way. Ella felt as though the bottom of her stomach had dropped out. Clearly, despite all of her efforts, all of her careful planning, Salora had attracted the attention of someone rich and powerful. Ella could only hope when the flush of romance was over, Salora wasn't left with nothing more than a broken heart and a swollen belly.

For the third day in a row, Salora dressed for duty with joyous flourish. She replayed the note that had accompanied the flowers over and over and over in her mind as she floated into the kitchens.

"Dearest Salora,

A priceless flower for every priceless candlemark of our aquaintance.

Counting the moments until next we meet.

---K"

"Good morning, Cook." she chirped, dancing into the kitchen and putting on her apron with a twirl.

"What's with you?" Cook said suspiciously, narrowing her eyes and glaring as if to bore a hole into Salora's mind. "What are you up to?"

Calista the pastry chef, laughed, a twinkling sound like tiny bells. "It should be obvious Aggie, even if it has _been awhile_ for you!"

The cook huffed in mock indignity, but favored Calista with a grudging grin all the same. "Obvious it may be to one with _lots of experience_ in these matters, Cali, but would you care to favor the more godly with your assessment?"

Now it was Calista's turn to huff. "Well, I _certainly_ don't know what you're talking about, but even a votary of the Goddess would be able to tell Salora's in love!"

"Or in lust." Put in another maid.

"Or playing a game of hide the pickle!" Melly the pot girl concluded crudely, earning her a round of boisterous laugher.

"I've been on the losing end of that game more than once." The cook muttered darkly, earning her the second round of laughter.

"All right girls, back to work! These trays aren't going to raise themselves! Though Haven knows with all these mages about they should be able to! Save me a world of grief!"

As they heaved trays, Deirdra one of the other girls, fell in beside her.

"I heard that someone sent you Tannis flowers."

Salora startled, nearly losing her laiden tray.

"Who told you that?" She eyed the other girl carefully.

"My cousin is a mid-palace chamber maid. She said she saw a room full of Tannis flowers in the servant's wing. She asked who's room it was and they said yours. So is it true?"

Salora shrugged enigmatically and muscled her way past the other girl to the lift. It wouldn't do for anyone to discover the identity of her admirer. Somehow she had a sinking feeling that the other servants would _not_ approve, expecially Ella, should the word reach her ears, as it inevitably would. Dierdra grumbled something about Salora putting on airs and said not another word to her the rest of the morning shift, but whispered amoungst the other girls, who cast glances at Salora when they thought she wasn't watching. Though caught up in the throes of her first love, Salora failed to notice none of it, whispering to herself that it didn't matter. She didn't care what they thought. She didn't need or want their acceptance. She was better off without friends...

The path to the Salle seemed inordinately long this morning, but Salora supposed that could be due to her frequent pauses to smooth her tunic--a black linen affair, dirt didn't _show_ on black--that she had selected purposefully to set off her skin by contrast. She had twined several of the Tanis lily blossoms into the shining confection she had twisted her hair into, acknowledging, if only to herself, how impractical it was to do so. But the way she felt about Him had nothing to do with practicality.

He stood waiting for her on the very spot where she had knocked him down the day before, and the very sight of him sent the blood coarsing to her cheeks. He saw her and smiled winsomely, offering her his hand.

"I see that you got the flowers I sent you."

She widened her eyes in mock suprise. "They were from you? I thought they were from one of my numerous other royal admirers!"

He was smiling, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Ha-ha. Very funny. Careful darling, I might just believe you. And Haven help any--"

She threw her arms around his neck in response and kissed him soundly on the mouth, effectively cutting off the flow of words. When they broke apart, the shadow was gone from his eyes.

"Was that for the jealousy or the flowers?"

"Both, why?" She replied, grinning at him mischeviously.

"Because if that's the response I get, I'm going to do it more often!"

"What, the jealousy or the flowers?" She mocked him, her silver eyes dancing.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He teased, arching a brow at her. "Now, come on, wench. Albereicht will have our hides if we're late!"

As they made their way to the Salle, she was gripped an odd feeling she couldn't quite place, as though something was missing. She stopped mid-pace as the realization hit her.

"What is it?" He said, stopping as well.

"Where is your friend, Jethry?"

"Why, don't tell me you miss his company? I already told you, I'm a jealous man..." He was grinning at her again, but watching her carefully for her response.

"Yes. No. I mean, it seems rude not to wait for him..." The odd feeling of emptiness intensified.

Kris laughed, the watchful expression vanishing from his face.

"I'm _kidding_, 'Lora. Consider it pay back for your comments earlier." He wiggled his brows at her in a most undignified manner.

"You!" She hit his arm playfully.

"Abusive too. Maybe I should rethink this whole thing..." He pretended to think.

"Fine." She said in mock unconcern. "I'll just go find Jeth." She pretended to walk way, calling his bluff. He pulled her back into him with the hand still twined in his, spinning her so she faced him.

"Don't you dare." The sudden serious turn of his voice sent delightful shivers down her body all the way into her toes. Their faces were mere inches apart. He absently brushed a stray stand of hair from her face. Her skin burned where his fingers touched it. "I sent him on ahead. I didn't want to share you." He leaned towards her,caressing her mouth with his in a single senuous movement. He twined his hands into her hair pulling her closer so that their bodies were flush, kissing her into breathlessness, and pulling away only when their need for air became to insistant to ignore.

"Careful, love. More kisses like that and I can't be held responsible for my actions." He said, pulling her along down the path somewhat reluctantly. Salora flushed again, Jeth seemingly completely forgotten. But a tiny corner of her mind, long-locked away from her conscious awareness, noted his absence painfully and mourned the lack.

They walked along the path completely engrossed in each other to the exclusion of all else. When they reached shouting distance from the Salle, Kris reluctantly dropped her hand. He leaned inward, his breath tickling her ear, and whispered "It wouldn't do for many people to see us so close together. Your reputation may be damaged."

Salora blinked in suprise, but thought rather cynically that it was his reputation that was in danger. Afterall, who ever heard of a prince and a scullary maid? She shrugged, her lips pursing unconciously into a rosebud of a pout. Kris noticed, troubled at her actions. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Jeth had seen them and was approaching.

"Hey." He said simply, avoiding Salora's eyes.

"Hi." She replied absently, her mind still focused on the fact that Kris did not want their relationship generally known and what it might mean concerning his intentions. She had heard rumours regarding his behavior that she had previously dismissed out of hand as malicious gossip of women scorned. Now she wasn't so sure. Perhaps the rumours held more credence than she had once believed.

Kris noticed Jeth's odd behavior in Salora's presence, and wondered at his apparent reticence. It was entirely unlike Jeth to be so quiet and reserved--almost ackward--even in the presence of a beautiful woman. Jeth might not have Kris' looks, but he was not unattractive by any stretch of the imagination. While he might trail behind Kris in appearance, he usually more than made up for it with a natural outgoing charm that had captivated more than one of Kris' former conquests. Silent and Jeth didn't normally belong in the same sentence. His silver tongue was legendary amoung the Heraldic Trainees. Only Kris knew first hand how skilled Jeth truely was in that respect, having personally watched him talk down some Kris' more furious former ladies.

_: He is behaving rather oddly, isn't he?_

Kris nearly jumped out of his skin.

_:Gods! Do you mind not doing that?! _

_:My, my, aren't we jumpy today?_

_:Didn't anyone ever tell you it's bad manners to eavesdrop?_

_Adain sent a mental shrug._

_:It's hardly eavesdropping if you're projecting your thoughts loud enough for even the unGifted to hear._

Kris blinked in suprise.

_:Was I really? I didn't mean to. So you think he's behaving oddly too?_

A pause.

_:Yes...It is entirely unlike Jeth to be so reserved. Perhaps you should ask him about it later. _

_:You're right. I will. Now! Out!_

Kris slammed his sheilds down firmly on Adain's mocking laughter.

As for Jeth himself, he only knew that for the first time in his life he was completely uncomfortable around a woman. Her proximity made him more and more uneasy the longer he was in her company. Even now his heart pounded almost painfully, just by virtue of her murmered hello. He shrugged off his unease and turned to Kris, the only one of the pair he felt capable of speaking to without stammering like a fool.

"Albereicht is assigning sparring partners. It seems I am afforded the dubious pleasure of feeling your practice blade once again." He executed a mock half-bow at his friend.

Kris broke into a grin.

"Rest assured, friend, the pleasure shall be all mine."

Salora's pout became even more pronounced. The partners that Albereicht assigned today would be permenant and she begrudged the time. She had so few moments to spend with him...

"I guess I'm to spar with you." said a soft, shy voice to her right. She looked up at a pleasantly plump girl with a ready smile and soft, curling blonde hair. Inspite of the frame that was obviously disused to physical exertion, there was enough of a resemblance for her to guess.

"Kris' twin?"

The girl nodded her ringlets tumbling across her forhead in a charming manner.

"Albereicht says you're the only one likely to tell me how bad I am."

Salora shrugged with embaressment and started to mutter a disclaimer but stopped. For all she knew, Lytha _was_ bad. And if she was, well, only an assasin would thank Salora for being soft on her.

"Salora!" Albereicht barked at her. She moved forward, turning her full attention on the Weaponsmaster. "I know that it is your skills that far surpass that of young Lytha. "To prevent you from soft getting, it is that I have arranged a private session with--"

"Me." The woman that stepped forward was nothing but whipcord and pure muscle. Her stern turn of face in no way marred her loveliness. "Herald-Captain Kerowyn." She stated firmly, extending her hand to Salora. Salora shook it with no little awe.

"_The_ Kerowyn? The one from the songs?" She stammered.

Kero turned to the Weaponsmaster. "Is there _no one_ who hasn't heard that blasted song?!"

Albereicht grinned at her. "Perhaps it is that I pay the young bards a princely sum to keep it circulating, delinda."

"You wouldn't _dare!_" Kero turned her attention back to Salora. "I'll be putting you through your paces first thing every morning."

"But--but I have kitchen duty!" Salora moaned in disapointment. Kero grinned at her.

"I think that you will find that all of your kitchen duties have been suspended...indefinitely."

"But..._how?"_

Kero shrugged. "Few would argue when Albereicht says that a young lady has extraordinary talent that needs nurtured."

Salora felt her eyes filling with tears. "I..._thank you_...I don't know how I'll ever repay your kindness."

Kero exchanged a glance with Albereicht. "Sure she says that _now_. What till she's had a few sessions with me. She might find she misses kitchen work!"

Kero's levity snapped Salora out of her greatful tears, just as it was meant to.

"Now that's not bloody likely! What a daft thing to say!" she exclaimed without thinking. When she realized what she had just said, and to who, she clapped her hands over her mouth. "Oh..I didn't mean...I am so sorry!"

Kero laughed. "I like her. She has guts."

"I told you that like her you would." Albereicht put it.

"Yeah, yeah." Kero replied, fixing her gaze on Salora. "Tomorrow. First bell. Be here and ready to workout."

Salora nodded, suddenly overcoming her hero-worship. Kero's eyes narrowed as though she was measuring something, before nodding sharply at Salora. "The ground rules. One. Don't shirk your practice. My lessons come before everything else. Even boys." She said, casting a glance at Jeth and Kris. "Two. Don't dull your senses with wine. I don't need you clumsy and hung over. Period. Clumsy is dangerous and hung over...just don't do it. Three. You work with the weapons I say you work with. No arguments. Got it?"

"Yes. You have my word." Salora said solemnly, meeting the woman's iron gaze. Kero nodded again, apparently pleased at the gravity with which Salora treated the situation.

"Tomorrow then." Kero said, turning and walking away abruptly, with total disregard for ceromony.

"Tomorrow." Salora echoed. Kero turned around. "Oh and Salora? Don't call me Herald-Captain. Between you and me it's Kero. Just Kero."

Salora watched her idol walk away with no little awe. The way the woman _moved_...


	7. Chapter 7

Alberiecht followed Kero away from the cluster of stretching students.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Kero said suddenly. "Not the type I'd expect to have a yearning towards weaponswork. She's almost to beautiful for words."

Alberiecht shrugged. "Lovely she is. Long have a watched her training in the shadows while my classes I taught. Thoughts, at first, occured to me that a passing fancy she had. But skill and dedication was not lacking. It was when she ventured boldly from her shadow that my attention was caught. A warrior she is. Regardless, glad I am to have found her."

Kero pondered his words for a moment then nodded. "Certainly if more beautiful maids learned to defend themselves we would have fewer cases brought before the Queen."

Kero watched her new pupil spar with unvarnished interest. Even though she was clearly more skilled than the young princess, the girl did not set out to humiliate her, or show off her skills. She kept her bladework tailored to the princess' own capability. Not to say she was easy on Lytha. To the contrary, she kept the the princess constantly on her toes, correcting her even with the flat of her blade if necessary. Much the same way Kero herself would, now that she thought about it.

"You were quite right to assign her to Lytha, Albereicht. She may yet be able to get that girl in line."

"It is my hope."

Lytha was drenched in sweat, her muscles quivering visibly, while Salora herself was barely winded. Salora noticed her partner's fatigue and stopped her advance. Lytha bent over slightly, panting to catch her breath, and turned to Kris and Jeth who had finished their own session and were waiting for Salora and Lytha to finish.

"You guys want to walk with me?" she huffed between breaths. "My slave driver of a sparring partner has me exhausted. She's as bad as Kero!" Upon finishing her sentence she quivered on her rubbery legs and nearly fell. Jeth moved forward swiftly to help steady her and shot Salora a look laced with reproach.

"She isn't used to this kind of exertion! You shouldn't have worked her so hard."

Salora's eyes flashed angrily. "And if I was easy on her, who would thank me then? Only the assasin that crept up to have her life!"

Kris stepped between them, wondering again at Jeth's behavior. It was _entirely _unlike him to...he cast Jeth an inquiring look, with one brow raised. Jeth flushed both in reprieve and anger. He opened his mouth for an angry retort but stopped at the look on Kris' face.

_:We need to talk. Later _

Kris sent, his mind voice conveying his bewildement and concern.

_:Fine_

Jeth's reply was clipped and brusque, with definite overtones of annoyance and something else Kris couldn't quite place. Certainly in all his years of friendship with Jeth he had never recieved a sending like that before...out loud he said:

"Why don't you go on ahead with Lytha, I'll meet you later."

Jeth looked at him oddly, a mixture of curiosity and annoyance on his face. "Aren't you coming?" He said shortly.

Kris cast a backward glance over his shoulder at Salora. "No. You see to Lytha. I'll be along after awhile."

Jeth's face darkened, his eyes clouding, but he sighed and nodded, taking Lytha's arm and helping her to walk step by shaking step up the path towards the palace. Kris had little time to ponder his friend's change in demeanor, for Salora was already walking away from him, in the opposite direction.

"Hey!" He called after her, rushing to catch up. "Wait." She kept walking, refusing to look at him. He grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. "What's wrong?"

She gave him a dark look. "I wouldn't want to damage your reputation should someone accidentally see you in my presence." She crossed her arms.

He could have laughed. Of all the ridiculous..."Is that what you think?"

She turned away from him, but not before he saw the obvious hurt in her eyes, which gave him all of the answer he needed. He dropped his voice into tender and caressing tones. "Salora. 'Lora listen to me. There are those among the court, even among the Trainees, who would whisper bitter rumours about you. I have...something of a reputation at court. If people saw you with me...I just want to spare you the stares and the back -biting. That's all." She fixed her silver eyes on him, telling him quite plainly without the aid of words that she did not believe him. He bit his lip in vexation then grabbed her in sudden a sudden fit of inspiration and kissed her until she returned his caresses with hesitant ones of her own. When they finally broke apart, she cast him a lop-sided grin.

"That's hardly fair, you know. How can I hope to win an argument if you end them like that?"

He grinned back. "What can I say, I'm not a man of words, I'm a man of action."

She pouted prettily at him. "Never-the-less. I'm still mad at you."

"Nonsense." He said dismissively, pulling her along the path. "I'm far too attractive for you to stay mad at."

"Modest too." She said cheekily, falling into step beside him.

"Oh you noticed!"

"How could I not when it is so obvious!"

He favored her with a laugh.

"You, woman, are going to drive me crazy!"

"Short trip." She returned.

He stopped and bowed to her. "Enough! I'm man enough to admit my total defeat. And since the victor gains the spoils, would you like to join me for dinner?"

"I'd love to. But I can't. I need to talk to Ella. To see how she's handling...all of this." Her eyes filled with genuine regret. "But I'll take you up on it another time."

"I'll insist on it."

Kris made his solitary way back toward's the Trainee's wing, a bottle of wine in hand. He paused momentarily before Jeth's door before opening it with out knocking. Jeth sat at his desk pouring over their history lessons, seemingly oblivious to Kris' rather dramatic entrance. Kris flopped into the arm chair and popped the cork on the bottle.

"Are you going to pretend to ignore me all night, or are you going to come and join me?"

Jeth sighed and dropped his quill onto the pile of parchment.

"We have class tomorrow, you know. They'll kill us if we turn up hung over. Again." But he sat in the chair opposite Kris and accepted the glass Kris offered him. He worried it in his hands for a moment before downing it in one gulp.

"So.." he said, not meeting Kris' eyes.

"So what? What's going on with you?" Kris sipped his own wine, his eyes never leaving his friend.

"What makes you think something's going on?" Jeth replied evasively.

"Jeth...come on..."

Jeth sighed. "Fine. I'll tell you. I don't like what you're doing."

"What I'm doing?" Now Kris was confused. Jeth shifted in his chair uncomfortably.

"Yes. Look. I know that we've been through this before. You meet a lady, woe said lady, dump said lady, usually followed by lots of tears and shouting..."

Kris felt his cheeks heat in embaressment. Was he really like that? "I--" Jeth held up his hand.

"Let me finish before my wine emboldened tongue loses its nerve."

Kris nodded, falling silent.

"As I was saying, usually followed by tears and shouting. But..." He looked up at Kris, his brown eyes dark and serious. "This time it's different. I think you could really hurt her."

"Salora?"

Now it was Jeth's turn to fix him a look. "Yes. Salora. Look, it's none of my business. But don't you think this has gone on long enough? Isn't it time to try and salvage whats left of your reputation before it's broken beyond repair? You'll be King one day, Kris!"

"I...look. If it makes you feel any better, I think this one is different...she's..." He stopped, because the expression on Jeth's face was far from pleasant.

"Fine." Jeth said shortly. "Fine. I'm done talking. But I hope that you don't do something that you'll regret."

Kris watched his friend's expression carefully, trying to place it.

"Jeth, why...now? Why her? It never seemed to bother you with the others."

Jeth shrugged in a nonchalance that didn't seem quite genuine and replied, "It did bother me. I just never said anything."

Kris sighed. "Fine. Look, I'll keep what you said in mind, alright?"

Jeth stood. "Fine. I think we're done then?" Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Kris rose and allowed Jeth to show him to the door. But he couldn't help but think that their chat had raised far more questions than it had answered.


	8. Chapter 8

At first, Kris had been afraid that Salora had forgotten her promise to meet him for dinner. By the time he arrived at the Salle for Weaponswork, Salora was already there, having spent all morning training with Kero. By the time she finished and Kris had warmed up for his own session, they had no more time than to exchange a smile before class began. After class, Salora would be shaking with fatigue, looking ready to drop on the spot. He would wait for the others to leave and then walk with her towards the palace. When he suggested that they spend the afternoon together, she would shrug him off, pleading exhaustion. But he needn't have worried; she hadn't forgotten. After a week of aclimating to her new, strenuous schedule, Salora brought up the subject herself and the requested date took place. Their relationship began to take off in earnest as they grew closer and closer.

Kris felt an easy commaraderie with her that he had never felt with a non-related woman before, not even among the Heralds or Trainees. She was fast becoming one of his best friends and he couldn't imagine his life with out her cheerful banter or her teasing smile. Little did Kris suspect just how infatuated Salora had become with him. Lytha, as Salora's sparring partner, noticed, and attempted repeatedly to warn him, but he was so intent on his own pleasure that he simply did not believe her.

As for Jeth, he and Kris had been spending fewer and fewer hours together as the months had passed. Indeed, they had scarely spoken since the night with the wine. At first Kris believed that their newfound distance was due to his waking hours being filled with Salora, but soon he realized that his friend avoided them both on purpose. But Kris had little time to figure out why, so intent was he on wooing Her.

Salora's infatuation with Kris had become periliously close to obsession. So enamoured of him had she become, that he was all she could think about. Even at practice with Kero, she found her mind wandering to thoughts of him. But her bladework continued to improve, so much so that Kero began to speak of getting her a place among the Skybolts. But Salora always had an excuse to delay, for joining the Bolts would mean leaving _him_, and her heart couldn't bare the thought. Kero wondered at her hesitance, but said nothing, continuing to train her most promising pupil. Salora hoped ferverently that Kris would soon declare himself to her. The small, rational corner of her mind whispered that her thoughts were dangerous--afterall, they were only fifteen--but she steadfastedly sqelched the dissenting thoughts. In spite of their gross differences in birth and background, Salora earnestly believed him as in love with her as she was with him. His every action around her seemed to bare her conclusions. He showered her with flowers and gifts. A thousand looks, kisses, and caresses all seemed to speak to her of his undying love. So she waited, delaying her entrance into the Bolts with the hope of a royal wedding. He would marry her and they would share his quarters at the Palace until the time came for him to take his place on the throne of Valdemar. The council would never permit the Heir to ride a true training circuit, so Salora concluded that he would likely complete his training in Haven...

Ella saw all of this in her daughter's eyes and waited and worried. Ella knew that the heartbreak was inevitable, but she said nothing to Salora, only whispering sensible words into the girl's ear of how nobles never wed their mistresses. Salora would always listen, nod and agree with her, then continue her floating around on a euphoric cloud of love. Not having the identity of Salora's lover, Ella felt frustratingly powerless to protect her daughter.

One afternoon after Albereicht's class, Kris sidled up to Salora, offering her a freshly picked wildflower he chanced upon just before class. She took it, giggling, and tucked it behind her ear. Jeth was watching then with narrowed eyes and Kris didn't miss the dark glance his friend leveled in his direction, glances that had become more and more frequent of late. Kris couldn't fathom the apparent turn in Jeth's attitude towards him. He missed the friendly chats and the closeness that the two of them had once shared. He offered Jeth a tentative grin, but Jeth had turned away, stalking up the path with Lytha trailing slightly behind him.

He grinned at Salora. "I have a suprise for you."

Salora's heart began to pound at the significant look that he leveled in her direction. He took her by the hand, leading her forward, away from the palace and towards Companion's field...

At the fence, Kris motioned for her to wait. He sat astride the fence, his eyes narrowed as if he were in deep concentration. Suddenly, off in the distance, came a Companion, which was hardly unsual given that it was their field. But this Companion continued towards them, slowing pace as it approached the fence. The Companion came right up to where Kris and Salora stood, arching it's-no his--neck and whickering in entreaty. She noticed that the stallion's neck and tail had been bedecked with dozens of tiny flowers, which was hardly normal attire.

"He's beautiful..." she breathed in awe. The stallion turned his head towards her and nudged her with his nose. She turned to Kris, emotion making her silver eyes glow. "May I...touch him?"

"He's asking you to, isn't he?" Kris teased softly, thouroughly enjoying her reaction.

She raised a trembling hand upward and began to timidly caress the Companion. He responded by stretching his neck into her strokes. Encouraged by his response, she intensified her pets, revealing in the feel of his silky soft coat underneath her hands.

_:I'm quite in love, Chosen _Adain sent, his mind voice colored by overtones of rapture. _:She certainly knows how to use her hands._

_:Really now. _Kris sent back mischeviously. _:I'll have to see if I can persuade her to give me a demonstration._

_:For shame, Chosen! Your mind is always in the sewers._

Kris grinned, turning his attention back to Salora, who was in raptures over her close proximity to Adain. She was liberally peppering Adain's nose with kisses, an action that made Kris ache with the desire to trade Adain places.

"Keep that up..." he murmered huskily. "and you'll make me jealous." He moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Would you like to take a ride?"

"Could I really?" Her voice was so full of unconcealed emotion that Kris couldn't help but smile. He nodded. Salora sqealed in delight, whipped around to face him, and kissed him so passionately that he was dizzy with desire.

"I should have done this long ago." He muttered to himself, trying to ignore the painful contraction in his loins. He mounted Adain with ease, drawing her up in front of him to give her the illusion of riding on her own. It also gave him an excuse to wrap his arms around her waist, pressing her body against his. All of which did nothing to ease the pressure in his groin. Adain began to move forward, taking a leisurely pace that barely qualified as a walk. Kris felt he must be busting the seams of his breeches. Surely she must feel _that_...pressed against her back as _it _was.

_"Careful, Chosen. _Adain teased. _:You wouldn't want to do anything...premature._

_: You_ He groaned under the strain of controlling himself. _:Had better hurry._

_:Honestly, Chosen, I'm suprised you've lasted this long. It has to be a record for you. Tell me again, how long has it been since last you..._

_:Adain._

Adain tossed his head playfully in response, but picked up his pace, gliding easily into a trot, and forcing Kris to cling even tighter to Salora's tiny waist. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he began to kiss her neck softly at first then with growing intensity. He allowed his hand to wander from her waist to her breast, caressing it softly through her tunic. After what seemed to Kris and eternity, Adain reached the secluded glade that he had selected previously as their destination. Cursing himself for picking a spot so damned far, he slid from Adain's back, turning to help Salora down.

The glade was surrounded by a grove of trees and covered in soft downy grass that contained hundreds of wildflowers--every color of the rainbow. A tiny brooke with a dainty waterfall trickled along in the background, presumably joining the Terilee River to the Southwest. Adain had discovered the grove some time ago--he and Kris had ridden there often. Kris had set up a soft blanket and a basket filled with a sumptuous picnic earlier in the day, but the picnic was now entirely forgotten in favor of more _pressing and insistant _needs.

As soon as her toes touched the downy grass he was on her, drawing her down onto the blanket into a pleasant tangle of limbs. His seeking mouth found hers while his hands roamed freely, finding the laces of her tunic. After a few moments struggle, his practiced fingers slipped inside, caressing those parts of her that had never before known a touch other than her own. He rubbed against her, pressing her with the hard length of his need, wordlessly showing her what she did to him. Unable to deny his crushing desire to consumate their love, he unfastened his breeches...taking them away into a new realm of passion.


	9. Chapter 9

They lay together on the soft downy blanket, limbs entwined. Kris, completely satiated, began to snore softly. Salora quietly disentangled herself from Kris and pulled on her white undershift--a sheer linen garment that left virtually nothing to the imagination. It was a mark of the change he had wrought both on her body and soul that she didn't mind. They were, afterall, beyond such things as modesty now. She watched as he softly slept, staring at him with dreamy eyes. To busy her hands, she collected a lapfull of wildflowers and began absently braiding them into garland. The action only distracted her momentarily. Brushing back her waist length hair, now falling unfettered, she slipped the crown of flowers on her head. Kris opened his eyes and she smiled at him. He returned her infatuated smile with a satiated grin then stretched lazily. A thoughtful expression crossed Salora's perfect features and she leaned towards him, gently pressing her lips to his.

"I love you." She whispered against his mouth.

Kris bolted upright in alarm.

"What?"

"I love you." she said again, more firmly.

Until this moment, blinded, he supposed, by unrequited lust, Kris had not suspected just how strongly Salora felt about him. He was so easy and comfortable around her, it was easy to forget that she wasn't another Trainee. The close friendship he believed that he had cultivated suddenly came under close internal evaluation. A hundred looks, whispers, caresses, and kisses flashed through his mind in a burst of enlightenment. Gods. Lytha was right. And Jeth. He sat, staring at her, dumbfounded into speechlessness. What in Astera's name was he going to do? What was he going to say? How could he possibly...fix this after what he'd--after what they'd--done. He ran his fingers nervously through his hair. What a tangle! He had never intended this. Jeth's words came back to him unbidden "I think you could really hurt her." He'd done just that. He had never meant to make her love him. None of the others had. Not really. But she did. She did and he had no idea how to rectify the matter. If only...if only he had listened. If only he had given heed to the warnings both Jeth and Lytha had given him. But if onlys wouldn't fix what he'd done. Even had he returned her love, nothing lasting could ever have formed between them. Surely she had to know that! He was the Heir. And a Herald. He had a duty to his people, to his country, that would come before all else. There was a chance, albeit a slim one, that he would need to make an alliance marriage one day.

He looked back at her, regret and remorse for what he knew he must do filling his eyes. Salora continued to declare herself with potent words and even more potent caresses. He only prayed that the words he was about to say wouldn't hurt her beyond redemption. He grabbed both of her seeking hands, stilling her ministrations.

"Salora." He said softly. She continued to tell him how much she loved him " 'Lora." he said again, louder. She quieted, staring at him with wide, startled eyes. "You...must stop this."

Her eyes widened in bewilderment and she opened her mouth to speak. He gave her no such opportunity. He had to let her know how things stood immediately, to nip this in the bud while there was still hope of retaining her friendship.

"I am so...so sorry." he continued in a gentle voice. "You have to believe me when I say that I never meant for this to happen." He sighed and cast his eyes downward, unable to hold her gaze. "I should have known. I should have _guessed_. I just didn't see it until now. And now! What have I done? Oh, 'Lora I am so _sorry!_"

"Sorry...for what?" She interjected in bewilderment, her hands beginning to tremble in his.

"For making you love me when I do not, can not, love you in return."

She flinched as though he had struck her, and indeed he had, albeit not physically. Tears began to fill her widened eyes and she stared at him like a frightened doe. "What...what are you saying?" Her words were a shaky whisper in a tone that bordered on hysteria. He pulled her closer, wanting to comfort her, to soothe her pain away. He forced himself to look her straight in the eyes, she deserved that much.

"I care for you. Very much. But not...in the way that you want me too. You...you've become one of my best friends. I never wanted to hurt you. But I don't love you. Not like...that..."

The color drained from her face.

"But you...but I...we..."

"I'm so sorry. I...I'll understand if you don't want to see me again...I take full blame for this..." He was rambling and he knew it. But he had to say something, anything, when she was looking at him like that.

She ripped her body forceably away from his, tears now streaming unchecked down her pale cheeks. The look in her eyes made him shudder involentarily as fear snaked its way down his spine. Her eyes were blank and unseeing, as though he was staring at an unensouled body, breathing and moving, but only the shell. She stood her hair splaying out about her shoulders as a wind whipped up out of no where. Gooseflesh raised the hairs on his arms and legs, the air around them pregnant with impending doom. He felt it, the odd foreboding growing stronger by the moment. Was it...humid?

But suddenly she was speaking, her words seeming to Kris to come from everywhere and nowhere.

"I loved you." The cold hard voice was so unlike Salora that he took several involentary steps backward. "I loved you and you used me. You took what you needed and cast me aside." Then it happened. Something...broke...Kris was hit with an odd psychic sensation that left him reeling, nearly unable to stand. Out of nowhere, a powerful storm materialized. He watched, bewildered, as the clouds rolled in darkened and began to vomit rain, completely defying laws of nature and rationality. Thunder clapped and lightening flashed uncontrollably. Kris thought dimly that a hurricane seemed to have decieded to vent its vegence upon him as just punishment for his transgressions. The wind howled, bending and uprooting trees in uncontrollable fury. Sheets of rain blinded him; clapping thunder made him deaf. He reached out for her, thinking, desperately, that if he could somehow catch hold of her it would all stop.

At last! A lightening flash illuminated Salora's disappearing form as she fled blindly through the rain. Kris made for her direction, calling to her in a vain attempt to be heard over the storm. He chased her phantom form, trying frantically to keep up. But the wind, flowing--impossibly--down her wake, sent a torrent of rain and hail to ruthlessly pelt him, knocking him from his feet. As if on que, his head began to ache with a sudden pain, not unlike a reaction headache. As the pain began to grow in intensity, Kris gave up. He had strength enough to mindcall Adain before he passed out, falling limply into the muddy earth.

Salora ran. From the moment that Kris had told her that he didn't love her, she felt something break inside of her. It was though a hither-to restrained part of herself had broken free from the careful walls her subconscious had spent a left time constructing. It was consuming her, the pain--mental, physical, emotional--all warred with each other, threatening to tear her apart. She fought it depesrately, trying to restrain it. Even in the pit of her dispair she sensed that if she gave into it, gave it its head, all would be lost.

So she ran. She ran through the blinding rain, willing strength into her faultering limbs with only one goal in mind--to end the agony that her world had become. She stumbled through the dense undergrowth, and fell, tumbling down a sharp embankment at the edge of a large body of water. Using her last ounce of strength, she rose to her feet forcing her stiff and battered limbs to carry her forward towards the water's edge. The torential downpour had plastered her gazy shift to her body, leaving the thin material completely sheer. She ignored it, caring little now for modesty, and wishing only to die.

She pushed back her heavy, wet hair and strode resolutely into the raging waters. Perhaps with her death the odd things happening would ebb and die. She longed for the Shadow Lover's embrace, and with it an end to her agony. What had she left to live for? Her heart had been ripped from her breast. She didn't even have hope to sustain her, for all of her dreams had become inexorably intwined with him. A wave knocked her off her feet, sending her body plunging through the rapids and filling her lungs with brackish water. She lay motionless and limp, submitting her body to the will of the current, which pulled her downward. She felt her body sinking into the abyss of nothingness and she made not even a token atttempt at resistance. A piercing sound echoed through the water and into her ears. Dimly, she felt something grasp her shift and pull. Her body began to ascend...then everything went black.


End file.
